


Imprinted

by kageygirl



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-23
Updated: 2005-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageygirl/pseuds/kageygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shoving McKay off the balcony wasn't the first way he and Sheppard tested the personal shield.  It wasn't the last, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imprinted

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scenes for 1x03, "Hide and Seek."

If he'd given it a little more thought, John probably wouldn't have made so much popcorn.

Not that the look on McKay's face hadn't been priceless, whenever John had offered him the bowl. But they had limited supplies, after all, and Ford and Teyla had been the only other two who were eating--could eat, even, with McKay being stuck inside the shield. John had actually forgotten about McKay's little problem for a second, but he'd remembered in time to cut back on the portion.

Then he'd gone ahead and made it all anyway.

It'd been funny, so he wasn't going to worry about it too much. He and Teyla had run into McKay near the living quarters, and he'd been swept up in his own enthusiasm when he invited McKay along to watch the B.C.-Miami game with them. That had ended up being fun, too, so he didn't think there was any point in overanalyzing the impulse.

As for asking McKay in when they got back to John's quarters--well, that had pretty much been a nonevent. They'd been talking about the CFL, he'd opened the door and waved McKay in, and they'd kept right on talking, John dropping down onto the bed and McKay taking the desk chair.

But while he'd been not-thinking about those things, he _had_ been thinking about others. Now, John nodded at the little device glowing on McKay's chest. "So, the shield can't be completely impermeable, right?"

McKay'd been lost in thought for a minute, staring at his hands clasped in his lap, but now he frowned at John. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if it were, you'd have suffocated by now."

McKay glanced down at the device. "True. I haven't really thought about it like that."

John stopped leaning back on his hands and sat up straight, staring at McKay, not really covering his amusement. " _You_ haven't thought about that."

McKay gave John one of those haughty looks, with the narrowed eyes and the dropped chin. "Well, obviously, that's not a concern, Major. Otherwise, I would hardly have survived long enough for you to shoot me in the first place."

John couldn't keep the smirk off his face. "Okay. So, the fact that you were still breathing just kind of--slipped your mind."

"Don't you think I would have noticed if the Ancient text about the device had made any mention of the test subjects dying of anoxia? I didn't consider it too much of a stretch to assume that the Ancients weren't complete idiots."

"Sure, that makes sense." John switched tracks and shook his head, frowning a little for good measure. "Then again, the Ancients didn't leave instructions on how to turn the thing off. Of course, they probably considered that too obvious to bother writing down..."

That got John the popcorn look again. "Very funny."

John raised his eyebrows at McKay, and said casually, "You know, I think Dr. Weir might have been right. I'm starting to wonder about your scientific method, McKay."

McKay glared at him, though there wasn't any real heat behind it. "Are you? It's strange that you didn't seem too concerned about it when I asked you to shoot me."

"Well, no. That part was fun." John grinned, leaning forward and sticking a thumb out at the door. "You want to do that again? Might make you feel better."

"Great, that's--that's just great." McKay rolled his eyes and waved his hands irritably. "I'm glad you're so amused while I'm in the midst of starving to death."

John ignored the pessimism, which he could see becoming a conditioned response around McKay. Weir had already taken John aside and given him her take on it, that the shield would come off by itself, and John thought she was probably right.

For all his complaining about his impending death, though, John found it interesting that somewhere inside, McKay was more worried about taking the thing off right now than he was about it killing him. That was probably what was short-circuiting his brain, stopping him from really thinking through the problem.

John kept all that to himself, though, and just said, " _I'm_ just glad we did it out on the balcony. I'd hate to have to explain to Dr. Weir why there were bullet holes in the walls."

McKay dismissed him with another hand gesture. "Please. As if I wouldn't have accounted for the ricochet."

John chuckled, because the shooting really had been pretty damn fun, once McKay had convinced him that it wasn't some sudden weird self-destructive urge. He focused on the shield device again in an effort to get McKay on the same page, pointing at it. "So, anyway. It's letting air through."

McKay gave him a little "get on with it" hand twirl. "Yes, yes."

"And it doesn't seem to get all glowy when _you_ touch other things." He fanned his fingers as he waved at McKay. "Sitting there, or on the couch in the lounge--hell, even standing on the floor."

McKay looked down again, his forehead creasing in thought, then looked back up at John. "Are you going somewhere with this, Major?"

"Well, there's a mental component, right? So maybe it doesn't react to things you don't see as a threat."

McKay stared at him for a minute--studying him, John thought, with an echo of ingrained wariness. John made himself keep his face blank, just meeting McKay's eyes in return.

McKay finally nodded, leaning forward in the chair. "That's--a thought." McKay paused, his eyes going a little unfocused, and reached for the device again. Again, he was stopped by the wild green shimmer. He looked at John skeptically. "I'm seeing my own hand as threatening?"

"To the removal of the shield? Sure."

"That doesn't account for the coffee, either," McKay said. "Unless the Ancients found caffeine inherently threatening, which is impossible considering how advanced their civilization was."

McKay's eyes narrowed again, but there was no annoyance this time, just concentration. "No, that simply doesn't make sense, because then the shield would be useless against something you didn't see coming, which would essentially negate the point of having it in the first place."

John stared at the cheerful green glow of the device as he thought out loud. "Unless it was meant to work like a hazmat suit--something you put on when you knew you were going into danger."

"Except that the fact that it's letting in air makes it a remarkably poor hazmat suit."

Yeah, that was a problem. John shrugged. "Okay, not exactly a hazmat suit, more like... a flak jacket."

"Oh, yes, thank you for the military analogy," McKay said distractedly, and John bit down on the urge to grin at McKay's knee-jerk response. McKay was staring at the wall, but he turned to John with a speculative look. "Actually, that may not be a completely invalid comparison. What are you getting at, exactly?"

And why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? McKay was looking at John just a little too intently, but batting ideas around with McKay was too interesting to stop. He kept finding that he didn't really want to play the dumb grunt with McKay. Something about that prickly attitude was making John want to give as good as he got--even if that meant meeting McKay on his own turf.

"Nothing, yet," John said. "Just applying some logic, since pure science doesn't seem to have gotten you anywhere." Old habits died hard, and the half-smile he gave McKay had an edge of self-mockery. Nothing to see here...

McKay eventually looked away again. "Right. Okay. So, it stops physical objects, but it's not completely impermeable. It's letting air pass through..."

"Seems to be transmitting sound, too. You can hear us, and we can hear you."

McKay blinked, then gave him a slow nod, meeting his eyes again. "Good point."

"Thank you." And if John kept that up, he'd really be throwing in the towel on keeping a low profile. Though he'd probably already doomed himself with the 720 possible gate addresses--not that six factorial was that hard to work out, but still. "Have you tested it under an electric current?"

"Of course, because I like to electrocute myself for fun."

John nodded. "So, that'd be a no, then."

"Yes, that's a no." McKay looked down at his hand, though there was nothing to see with the shield inactive. "Though it's an interesting idea."

"Let me know how it turns out." John kind of wanted to be there when McKay tried that, but he didn't want to seem too eager. He shifted on the bed as a thought occurred to him, scratching the back of his head. "Uh, not to get too personal, but can anything else exit the shield?"

"Like what?"

John grimaced a little. Damn idiot geniuses. "Bodily functions, McKay."

McKay scoffed at him, pretty damn impressively. John wasn't sure he'd ever seen a better example. "Oh, that's really mature."

"It's a legitimate question."

"It's sophomoric!"

John felt his eyes go wide. "Are you saying you haven't since--?"

"I've had other concerns." McKay glared at him and pushed himself out of the chair, his movements stiff and angry.

"McKay..." John was pretty sure it wasn't actually possible to insult McKay, and this was a damn weird thing for him to get upset about. John really hadn't meant to piss him off enough to drive him away.

"Much as I'd love to stay and discuss bathroom humor with you, Major, there are instructions I need to write up for the science team during the few short hours I have left, so if you'll excuse me..." McKay turned towards the door, and John found himself paying more attention to the way McKay was definitely _not_ looking at him than to his breezy delivery. McKay usually didn't shy away from eye contact.

Other concerns, McKay'd said--maybe like being freaked out enough by the shield thing to not be thinking clearly, and probably not liking it that John kept calling him on ideas he should already have had himself.

And now John was the idiot, because, yeah, McKay had been pretty casual about supposedly being a dead man, but John of all people should have known a thing or two about protective camouflage, damn it.

He stood up, wondering whether he could actually stop McKay with a hand if he reached out, or if the shield would brush him off. " _McKay_. Wait."

McKay sighed, but he stopped just before the door. "What?"

John didn't really have anything in particular to say, but he didn't want McKay to leave like that.

Wait--McKay'd sighed... John tilted his head as a thought struck him, then beckoned McKay back. "Come here a sec."

McKay stopped in front of him, frowning in impatience. "What now?"

"Breathe on me."

McKay squinted at him as if he'd started speaking--Ancient, or something. Okay, maybe not Ancient, because he thought McKay at least understood some Ancient. "Excuse me?"

"My hand. I want to see if moisture can pass through the shield, and there's no way I'm asking you to spit on me."

McKay crossed his arms over his chest. " _This_ is your scientific method?"

"That's kind of a lot of sarcasm coming from the guy who almost didn't notice that he was still breathing in the first place." John set his hands on his hips and angled a pointed look at McKay. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're not going to figure out how that thing works unless you experiment with it some more. And if you don't figure out how it works, you won't get it off."

McKay gave him a resigned sigh. "Fine. Hold out your hand." John did, and McKay leaned over to blow on the back of it, a quick breath that barely tickled the hairs there. "There, happy?"

John gave McKay his own narrow-eyed look. "Do it again."

"Major!"

John ignored McKay's exasperated tone and held his hand out again. "Like you're trying to fog up a window, McKay. Come on."

"Fine, fine. Have it your way." McKay wrapped his fingers around John's wrist--no green glow, he noted--and lifted John's hand. John spread his fingers, presenting his palm, and McKay brought John's hand very close to his own mouth. John kept waiting for the shield to kick in, but it never did.

McKay looked John right in the eye--"you're an idiot, but I'm humoring you," the look said. With John's body blocking the little brass nightstand lights, leaving McKay in his shadow, McKay's eyes were dark and intriguing. And then he exhaled slowly on John's palm.

Whoa. Damn.

McKay's breath was warm, tickling as it curled across John's palm, and John felt a prickling heat flash over him that wasn't so much unpleasant as it was a damn big surprise.

Definite whoa.

Crap.

His conjecture had been right--when McKay stopped breathing on him, he immediately felt the chill of evaporation on his palm. Somehow, though, the thrill of discovery had lost some of its... thrill, comparatively speaking. McKay was still looking right at him, and John felt more pinned by that look than he did by the hand around his wrist.

He swallowed, and tried to clear his throat without making noise, but he was afraid his voice still sounded a little thick. "Okay, yeah, I felt that."

McKay's hand tightened around his wrist--probably about to move John's hand away--and John's fingers twitched towards McKay's face. He brushed the shield, and a fine tracery of green spread over McKay's cheek for a second before fading away.

"So, what does that mean?" McKay's voice was quiet, lacking a lot of its usual edge, but then again, he and John were standing pretty damn close to each other. It wasn't like he needed to be loud at this distance.

John licked his lips, wondering when his mouth had gone dry. "What does what mean?"

"Your experiment, Major." McKay still spoke softly, and he gave John a look that was part searching and part confusion. "You were looking for some earth-shattering conclusion?"

John shook his head, and the movement felt a little awkward, off-balance somehow. "No conclusions, McKay. Just gathering more data," he said, with a smirk that was almost automatic. Which was good--it was good that he could fall back on that. Safe.

John pulled his hand away, trying not to look desperate about it. He couldn't help rubbing his wrist a little, as if McKay's touch had burned him.

No, no, he was really the hell _not_ looking for any conclusions, earth-shattering or otherwise. Atlantis-shattering? He was going to need a whole new vocabulary here...

And oh, look, there he went freaking out for no reason. Just because he had a momentary urge to find out if there would be sparks between him and McKay that weren't of the green and glowy kind...

It was a passing thought. Happened all the time. It didn't mean anything. Even if he really liked tossing ideas back and forth with McKay, it didn't mean anything.

Even if McKay was standing there, looking a little surprised and a little unsure and a whole lot like John felt... it didn't mean anything.

Even so, dropping his whole line of investigation about the shield might not be a bad idea.

John kicked his smirk up to obnoxious, and only kept himself from clasping his hands behind his back because it felt a little too much like he'd be hiding them. "Well, don't let me keep you from writing up those final pieces of wisdom."

"Right. Of course." McKay was still staring at him uncertainly, but John was doing his damnedest not to give anything away, and McKay finally gave him a faint smile. "Good night, Major. I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow, assuming I don't expire during the night."

"Night, McKay." John nodded at him, and stayed right where he was as McKay left. When the door slid shut behind him, John let out a deep breath.

No, it didn't mean anything. But pulling back from McKay a little bit was probably a good idea, particularly since John couldn't seem to lay off anything McKay said; it was almost addictive, the way that McKay paid a little more attention to him every time he said something thoughtful, or, paradoxically, every time he answered one of McKay's snide remarks in kind.

John rubbed his palms against his thighs. Everyone in Atlantis was still settling in, still figuring out what the hell they were doing, and John probably shouldn't let himself get too close to someone who had that kind of effect on him--who made him want to act without thinking too much.

He rubbed his hands against his jeans again, then stopped, looking down at himself. For that matter, he probably needed to consider the image he was projecting--he wasn't really just one of the guys any more, but the ranking military officer. He thought about Weir joining them in the lounge, and how she hadn't actually sat down with them. Was John pretty much on duty all the time now, too?

That was an unsettling idea, and he'd already been unsettled, damn it. A walk might clear his head--he could wander by the control room, just to make sure nothing was going on, then sit down with his book for a while. He didn't feel like sleeping any time soon.

And if he was going to go out, he should probably change out of his jeans and back into uniform pants before he went. As gestures went, it might be pretty pointless, but he could do with the reminder until it really sank in, and it wouldn't hurt to look the part in front of Bates and his men.

And if he cleared his head, maybe he'd stop thinking about the feeling of McKay's breath on his hand, about how McKay's voice had gone soft and his eyes had gone dark.

* * *

Oh, yeah--the best-laid plans really _were_ the ones that went straight to hell. And John had a pretty good idea of what hell looked like, except that he knew hell wasn't static, the way most people thought. Hell was a really bad thing that just kept getting worse.

It was watching an ugly black cloud pour into the gate room, and seeing that cloud stop dead, feeding off the MALP and getting big enough to cover more than half the gate.

It was watching a friend walk straight into that damn thing, with no guarantees he'd come out again, and no way to help him.

And it was seeing that same friend sprawled on the floor, and not knowing at first whether he was dead or alive.

As for the pulling-back plan, that one was gone by the time John dropped down and reached for McKay's wrist, and had to remind himself to breathe through his relief at feeling a steady pulse under his fingers. He couldn't have been at all subtle about it, because for a few minutes there, even when he was talking to Teyla, he'd hardly been able to stop looking at McKay.

John was also pretty sure that no real definition of "pulling back" included dogging the medical team's steps as they escorted McKay to the infirmary, even though McKay was fine and moving under his own power.

While the staff fussed over McKay, John got out of the way and visited Ford, filling him in on what had gone down in the gate room. After a few minutes, he caught Beckett heading over to see McKay out of the corner of his eye and said goodbye to Ford, meeting Beckett by McKay's bed.

"Major, would you be so kind as to get this man out of my infirmary? He's taking up valuable bed space that could be used by the legitimately sick or injured."

John held back a grin as McKay gave Beckett a dirty look. "Unbelievable. This is the thanks I get for my heroic efforts."

"I'll thank you to stop fainting and getting everyone excited over nothing," Beckett said, and met McKay's outraged huff with a stern look.

"You heard the man, McKay. Let's go, before Dr. Beckett gets bored and breaks out the big needles." John exchanged a look with Beckett behind McKay's back, and Beckett gave John a conspiratorial grin that McKay couldn't see.

This was the second time in two days that John had been there to watch McKay get the exact same diagnosis, but this time he could give McKay a pat on the shoulder to go along with his best patronizing look. Or what was supposed to be a patronizing look, anyway--John had been awake and on edge for enough hours in a row that he wasn't quite sure what look he was giving McKay. Or what he might be giving away with it.

At least Beckett didn't seem to think it was weird that John was there with McKay. Again.

Then again, John hadn't been the only one at McKay's side a few minutes ago, either. For all that Grodin had been happy to take a swing at McKay, he'd also cradled the man's head on the gate room floor. And Weir had looked like she was about to join their little parade to the infirmary, before she'd been called away to preside over repairs to the still-fidgety power systems.

Maybe McKay just had some weird effect on people that made them like him for no good reason, even with all the rudeness and sarcasm.

In which case, it was hardly John's fault that he kept gravitating to McKay, and since there was nothing he could do about it, it was kind of pointless to try to fight it. Besides, with McKay leading the science teams, they were going to be working together a lot, so it only made sense that they try to get along.

And--yeah. He'd pretty much owned up to the fact that he already thought of McKay as a friend.

McKay pushed himself off the bed with an exaggerated wince and a groan of effort, and John stepped aside to let him pass, falling in beside him as they entered the hallway.

Hands in his pockets, John said, "I may have to take it back, about your scientific method."

"Oh, really."

John nodded, then raised his eyebrows. "Though that was a hell of a way to test the 'electric current' thing."

McKay snorted. "I can assure you, Major, that walking into a giant sentient cloud of charged particles isn't an experience I plan to repeat any time soon."

Good. Because John didn't really want to go through that again, either. But what he said was, "That's probably best. Since I think your shield has given up the ghost." John pointed his chin at the little device, now dark and ordinary in McKay's hand.

"Yes, despite its advantages, it really wasn't everything it was cracked up to be." McKay flipped the device over a few times, fingers moving deftly. "No wonder the Ancients left it behind."

"Well, you know how it is." John stopped watching McKay's hands and considered McKay's profile. McKay's head was bent as he stared down at the device, and John smiled at him. "Sometimes, what seems like a good idea at the time turns out not to be, later on."

The smile turned into a self-conscious grimace, and John turned his head a little, not really looking away, just not quite facing McKay head-on.

But McKay raised his head quickly and glowered at John, and, really, that look shouldn't have amused John as much as it did. "Yes, yes, your oh-so-thinly veiled observation about the advisability of testing the shield device on myself is noted, Major."

John hadn't intended it like that, but he gave McKay a real smile this time, because it was too damn tempting not to screw with him a little. "Relax, McKay. I didn't say anything about _you_." Going with the flow and baiting McKay was so easy it felt almost natural. "You're getting kind of paranoid, there."

"I wonder why. Could it be because, oh, I haven't had nearly enough sleep over the past day, not to mention food? Oh, and don't let me forget the giant energy-sucking cloud."

"How could I? You've only brought it up about seven or eight times." John turned suddenly and stopped McKay with a hand on his shoulder. He moved it away before it got weird, but for just a second, it was really good to feel McKay alive and breathing and unshielded under his hand. "Listen, you want to hit the mess hall? I think they're serving breakfast."

John looked down at his watch, which was still set on Mountain Daylight Time, and did the conversion in his head to the most recent proposed Atlantean schedule. "Uh, probably. If not, I stashed the leftover popcorn in the back. We can split it."

McKay blinked at him, then gave him a tired smile, the corner of his mouth quirking downwards in a way that was odd, but interesting. "Yeah, actually, that sounds good."

McKay yawned suddenly, shaking his head as if taken by surprise. "And then I could really use a nap, assuming they can keep the power control system running for a few hours without me. We should probably talk to Elizabeth, figure out a standard reward system." John felt his eyebrows drawing together, and McKay spread his hands, as if it were obvious. "How much time off we get each time we save the city?"

John shook his head and headed towards the mess hall, watching McKay as they walked. "You think it'll need saving that often, McKay?"

"You think it won't?" McKay gave him an incredulous look. "We're in an entirely new galaxy, Major. In just a few days, we've seriously annoyed a race of life-sucking vampires, we almost lost the city to a--a ten-thousand-year-old lab animal that got out of its cage, and I was almost killed by a personal shield that was supposed to keep me safe." McKay ticked off his points with a raised hand. "We have absolutely no idea what's going to happen here, and I'm not taking it for granted that this is as bad as it gets."

There was that pessimism again, and again, John ignored it. This time, he was thinking about the other thing McKay had just said, and he was right--they didn't really have any idea what was going to happen out here.

But they were a relatively small community, top-heavy with smart, driven people. People who, John was starting to believe, had a damn good shot at handling what got thrown at them, no matter how unconventional.

He gave McKay a sidelong glance, taking in the raised chin, the folded arms, the set expression of noble suffering, and nodded solemnly. "At least you and your heroic efforts have job security."

That got John an aggravated look, but it was an impersonal one. As if John were just part and parcel of the universe conspiring to irritate him. Good thing John was all for doing his part for the cause.

"I realize you may not be in a position to appreciate my many and varied talents, Major," McKay said, giving John a significant look, "but I assure you, I'm an invaluable member of this expedition."

"Oh, I don't doubt that for a second, McKay," John said lightly, with an earnest nod that made McKay roll his eyes. John let McKay precede him into the mess hall, giving McKay a smirk when McKay glanced back at him.

Because he actually _didn't_ doubt that, but it wouldn't do to let McKay pick up on that too easily. That would take all the fun out of it.

'Invaluable.' Not to mention braver than he let on, and pretty good under pressure, once he got past the nervous stream-of-consciousness talking thing. The other day, Weir had asked John to think about who he wanted on his exploration team. And since they really _could_ get into all kinds of trouble out here...

... John hardly had to think about it at all.


End file.
